


A Most Welcome Gift

by SparkBeat



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Double Penetration, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles, Toys, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:26:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/pseuds/SparkBeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Dratchet centered drabbles.<br/>Ch 1. Drift finds a fun new toy for Ratchet. Things don't go quite as planned, but who's complaining?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Most Welcome Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vienn_peridot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/gifts).



Drift wandered the marketplace, mindful of the organics scurrying around his pedes. Stalls draped with colorful cloths and interesting items of foreign make were spread out for as far as the optic could see. He was glad that Ratchet had agreed to stop here on the way back to the _Lost Light_. He’d find something here for Rodimus, hopefully, as a sort of ‘good to be back’ present.

So when he passed by a closed sided shop large enough for a Cybertronian to step inside, he entered without looking at the signs, just happy to find something on his scale.

Inside, he was greeted by rows upon rows of toys, garishly colored and of sizing varying from ‘little undersized, dontcha think?’ to ‘oh holy Primus what in the name of Unicron is that, and _where_ do you want it to go?!’. Vibrators, beads, plugs, and a plethora of false spikes both standard and alien shaped were arranged in rainbows on tables, and cuffs, whips, and bindings of all shapes and sizes hung from the frame holding up the canvas sides of the building.

A spindly looking mech looked up from a counter along the back wall, nodded, then went back to reading the datapad in front of him. Drift was trying to find a way to back out of the tent without insulting the merchant, when one caught his optic.

Painted a lurid neon orange and black, it all but glowed under the dim lighting, little raised bumps he supposed were facsimiles of biolights studded its surface. There were clear delineations running up the shaft, making the toy look more like multiple cables wound together, than any spike he’d ever seen, false, _or_ real.

The mech at the counter stepped up without a word, and flicked on the switch of the remote setting next to it, and the thing hummed, then the lines split, and what he thought was a solid spike with strange indentations split apart into multiple tendrils, waving and coiling around one another. Drift’s hand hovered over the strange toy, optics suddenly bright, and he only just bit down the shrill little squeal that bubbled up in the back of his intake as the tendrils seemed to sense him, and latched onto his hand, stroking and tickling at his plating.

“How much?” He croaked, disentangling his hand and shutting the thing off.

He didn’t waste time haggling, transferring the amount to a credit chip and handing it over.

He left with no present for Roddy, but a nondescript bag in his hand, and a look of single minded focus on his face as he stalked back to the ship.

Ratchet was going to _love_ this.

~~~~~

Drift grinned, setting his swords aside and crossing the small room in just a few steps. Ratchet was slumped down on the small sofa, more of a wide chair, really. Which was perfect, because while there was never enough room for both of them to sit side by side in the thing, he happily took the excuse to climb in Ratchet’s lap. Which he did now, throwing one leg across his spread thighs and straddling his lap, servos clinging to the rounded armor of his shoulders.

 

Ratchet rolled his optics, leaning up to close the little bit of space when Drift leaned in for a kiss. Servos rested on his hips, and he moaned, rocking down into Ratchet’s lap as he deepened the kiss, glossa chasing after the medic’s when he opened his mouth in surprise.

 

“Pit, kid. What got you so revved up so fast?” Ratchet asked when they broke apart, wide optics taking in the sight Drift made, spread across his lap and squirming, fans already running on a middle setting.

 

“Mmm…found a surprise for you at the market.” Drift smirked, leaning down and nipping at Ratchet’s bottom lip. The sting of fangs against the thin metal was enough to kick Ratchet’s fans on to harmonize with his own.

 

“Oh yea?” Drift squirmed, the heavy rumble of Ratchet’s engine vibrating up his struts and pooling liquid heat in his array. “Thought you were out shopping for Rodimus?”

 

“Not sharing this with him.” Drift laughed, cupping Ratchet’s face between his servos and guiding him to tilt his helm back so he can steal another heady kiss. Ratchet’s servos shifted to cup his aft, lifting him up onto his knees so he was raised up, hunched over to keep contact. The servos on his aft, kneading and squeezing at heated plating, only served to heighten his charge, and he didn’t bother to hold back the moan it caused, or to hide the fact that his panel had retracted to the sides, valve already dripping with lubricants. He’d had quite the vivid fantasy on the short jaunt back to the shuttle, to say the least.

 

One warm servo pressed between his thighs, cool in comparison to the heat of his array. Fingers were dragged through the gathering lubricants, pressed against his anterior node. He gasped, hips twitching, and pressed his forehead to Ratchet’s shoulder, panting for air as those fingers teased, tickling and tugging on the little bundle of sensors and setting his tac-net alight.

 

“What in the world could you have found? Hmmm?” He accompanied the question with a flash of heat as the coils in his fingers came to life with a hum, sending warmth and vibrations both into his nub with the firm press of his fingers. Drift mouthed something, trying and failing to get something other than a whimper out of his vocalizer as he pressed down against Ratchet’s servo. As quickly as the heat had come, it was gone, replaced with a chill as the coils dropped in temperature, and Drift was definitely whining now. His plan was falling apart under the repeated ministrations of Ratchet’s brilliant servos, and he pushed away with his fans screaming.

 

“Ra~atch…stop! Please?” Ratchet paused, studying him carefully, servo hovering a hairsbreadth away from his valve now as he waited.

 

“Thank you.” He huffed, leaning to the side and grabbing the nondescript packaging he’d flung onto the empty space of the couch when he’d come in. Sitting back up, he rewarded Ratchet’s patience with a kiss on the nose, which earned him a chuckle and a stinging swat to his aft that he arched into with a groan. “Sto~p it, Ratch. This is supposed to be for you!”

 

Ratchet shrugged, gripping the stinging metal of his aft and _squeezing_. “But I’ve got a lapful of revved up Drift. What did you think I was going to do? You’re irresistible, kid.”

 

“I’m older than you…” Drift pointed out, rolling his optics and flicking the other mech’s nose. Ratchet just laughed.

 

“Still a kid, to me, kid.” He punctuated it with a kiss to his chest plate. “Just too damn revved up. All. The. Time. Exhaust an old mech…”

 

Drift just rolled his optics again, though Ratchet couldn’t see with the way his forehead was pressed to his chest plate. Taking advantage of his lack of attention, he quickly drew out the toy and set it between Ratchet’s spread thighs, hidden by Drift’s frame from the medic’s sight.

 

“You wanna open your panel, old timer?” Ratchet leaned back, tilting his helm down to try and get a look at the toy, and Drift grabbed hold of his chin and raised his helm back up.

 

“Uh uh…and you call _me_ the kid. It’s a _surprise_.” He transferred the little remote to the couch, and reached between them with his now free servo, keeping Ratchet’s helm up with the other.

 

Ratchet’s optics dimmed when his fingers traced the outline of his spike housing, dipping in to stroke at the head of his slowly pressurizing spike, and the line of oft unstimulated sensors along the inside walls of the housing itself.

 

As his spike pressurized, sliding past Drift’s servo to rest between their frames, Drift rocked up against him, canting his hips and sliding his valve along the length of his shaft. Ratchet groaned, one servo squeezing Drift’s thigh, the other slapping down on the couch beside them.

 

With a barely heard click and whirr, the toy beneath them came to life, and Drift jerked in surprise when a questing tentacle brushed against his valve.

 

“What the pit?” Ratchet jerked, as another pressed against his rim, edging slowly inside. Drift didn’t release his chin, leaned down and stealing another kiss. The tentacles moved in tandem, playing with the valves presented to them, and Drift was happy to swallow the surprised moans Ratchet couldn’t quite seem to hold back.

 

Raising up just a little higher onto his knee stabilizers, out of reach of the toy, he slid his valve along along Ratchet’s spike, lining up the head and sinking down onto it with a wordless cry. Calipers that had grown unused to Ratchet’s size while they’d been separated, stretched deliciously, a tingling burn that didn’t abate the pleasure pooling in his tank as he sank down slowly, till their plating met with a clank, and Ratchet’s spike was buried completely inside him.

 

Ratchet’s servos on his aft squeezed tighter, and his optics flared as his helm dropped back against the back of the couch. “Slaggit, kid….” He choked off whatever else he was going to say on another moan, bucking up against Drift and driving himself that little bit deeper. Drift couldn’t help the breathless little laugh that escaped, rocking down against the medic, rubbing his node against Ratchet’s plating, his own spike pressed between their abdominal armor and already leaking a copious amount of fluids.

 

Beneath him, Ratchet suddenly tensed, optics wide. His servos squeezed hard enough to dimple plating, and Drift paused, despite his rapidly rising charge, staring down at him questioningly.

 

“Ratch?” He asked, when the medic showed no signs of saying a word, tentatively touching heated faceplates.

 

“They….slag, Drift, they grow?!” Ratchet finally managed, more a croak than coherent speech. Shocked, Drift reached down with the servo not clinging to Ratchet’s shoulder for balance, and traced his fingers along the stretched rim of Ratchet’s valve. Sure enough, the once firm tentacles were now much more pliable, writhing and snaking around one another as they moved inside his valve. The metal plating had thinned and stretched as whatever it was inside expanded, making them softer and more malleable to the touch. Grinning, Drift smeared the lubricants leaking from the stretched rim over the moving bundle, slipping the tip of one finger in alongside them.

 

Ratchet yelped, bucking up into Drift, striking his ceiling node. If it weren’t for Ratchet’s servos around his back, he’d have fallen flat, nearly unseated by the sudden movement.

 

Pulling back, and setting his now sticky servo on Ratchet’s shoulder, he ground their plating together, rocking down the spike in his valve seated firmly against that uppermost bundle of sensors, and set to kissing his medic senseless.

 

So when one of the tentacles retreated from Ratchet’s valve, the rest expanding to fill the extra space, Drift was a little surprised. The questing tentacle nudged against his stretched valve, and was pressing in alongside Ratchet’s spike before Drift had the thought to move away.

 

“Oh!” He stilled, hiding his face against Ratchet’s neck and gasping for cool air that wasn’t available between their scorching frames, as the single tentacle pressed in. It had decreased it’s girth, but that was made up for by the fact that it had grown firmer, sliding in alongside Ratchet and tapping at random node clusters as it went.

 

“You okay, kid?” Ratchet asked, stroking down his sides comfortingly, showing a surprising amount of restraint for a mech buried housing deep in someone’s valve, with a tentacle curling around his spike, and more squirming in his own valve.

 

Drift nodded, not trusting his voice, as the tendril stopped pushing inwards, and started instead to expand, stretching his calipers slowly but surely past their standard configurations. He shifted, spreading his thighs wide over Ratchet’s lap and sinking down to sit on his spike, giving up even the _thought_ of doing anything more than letting the toy have its way with them both at this point.

 

Rocking his hips in little circles now, mouthing at Ratchet’s neck and whining as the tentacle continued to expand, he snuck one servo down between their frames to wrap around his spike.

 

Ratchet nipped one of his shoulder plates in a wordless rebuke, gathering both of Drift’s servos up and holding them at the small of his back with one of his own.

 

“Who’s the impatient kid now, huh?” The words were felt more than heard, a deep rumble from Ratchet’s engine as the tentacles twisted in his valve, and the one in Drift’s pressed up against his spike, squeezing him tighter than a valve with factory seals. It was bordering on that thin line between exquisite and painful, now, and he used his free servo to pull Drift down tight against him, the two of them rocking together as the tentacles started tapping nodes at random in their valves.

 

Charge ramping higher, Drift’s overload caught him by surprise. He let go of the cable he’d been sucking on to throw his helm back and _howl_ as his valve clenched down tightly around the twin intrusions, spike painting streaks of fluid up their plating that Ratchet spread further as he bucked up against him. Pressing them together from chest plate to pelvic plating, his own charge crested, and fluids, having nowhere else to go in the overstuffed valve, dripped out around his spike and the toy to splash over his lap and the couch beneath.

 

They sat pressed together like that for long minutes, wide opticked and panting, trying to supplement cooling fans already overworked. The toy pulled free from their valves with a squelch of displaced fluids, the hum of the little motor slowing. Drift fumbled for the remote, falling to the side and whining as Ratchet’s spike pulled free, leaving his valve gaping and grasping on nothing. Remote finally in servo, he shut the toy off, and set it on the ground between Ratchet’s pedes, out of reach.

 

Then, deciding he had no energy to waste on unnecessary movements, he pulled Ratchet down to lay beside him on the small couch, and offlined his optics.

 

~~~~~

 

When he woke, it was to Ratchet cleaning his plating with careful, firm strokes. Clinical fingers were examining his valve, probably to make sure the toy hadn’t damaged him at all. His fans onlined with a wobble and a whine, and a servo stroked the inside of his thigh, firm enough to ground him instead of revving him up again.

 

“You okay, Drift?”

 

“Mmmmhmm…” He stretched, raising his hips off the couch and feeling something pop in his back. “Ooooh that felt good…” He wasn’t sure if he meant the stretch, or the _stretch_. Ratchet couldn’t seem to decide, either, and chuckled, pressing a kiss to his thigh.

 

“Yea, it did. It was a good find, kid.”

 

“D’n think it’d be so…advanced… though.” Drift scratched the side of his nose, squinting down at the innocent looking little toy still sitting on the floor.

 

“The things got a basic little processor in it, Drift. Don’t you read things before you use them?” Ratchet laughed, tossing him the little insert that had been dropped to the floor when Drift had hastily unwrapped the toy. Drift batted it away from his face with a grumble, pulling Ratchet back down to lay next to him on the floor.

 

“D’n care….sleep now. Make fun later, yea?”


End file.
